


Dirty Little Secrets

by scandalsavage



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Belts, Blackmail, Coercion, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Roman is a cocky bastard, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Voyeurism, Wrongful Imprisonment, well... "wrongful"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: The Bats find out about Damian's private prison and take care of it. Unfortunately there is one inmate who requires a little additional damage control.Black Mask knows exactly what his silence is worth. And he refuses to accept anything under full value.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd
Comments: 30
Kudos: 275
Collections: Jason Rare Pair Challenge





	Dirty Little Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissNaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Blurry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435521) by [MissNaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya). 



> Canon divergence for that time Damian had a prison in his basement. 
> 
> Also, the kernel for this idea came from a discord discussion that happened before the most recent chapter of Blurry so this is probably an AU where events set in motion in the latest chapter didn't happen (don't want to spoil it if you haven't read it).

Bruce is just… stunned.

As Batman, and even as Bruce Wayne, he has had plenty of experience with shocking and appalling situations for which he was unprepared. He’s developed a pretty solid process for dealing with them.

But this is… a bit beyond his ability to keep his cool. So he rounds on his son.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snarls.

“I was thinking that your methods are obviously inadequate,” Damian mumbles. He _sounds_ like he realizes this wasn’t the best idea, but chin is jutting out and somehow he’s managing to look down his nose at Bruce—who stands two whole feet taller. “Your rogues average what? A couple weeks in prison? Or worse. Arkham.”

Bruce scowls at him. “This is unacceptable, Robin. You must recognize that.”

Damian just huffs and Bruce is momentarily distracted by an odd display happening in one of the cells.

Jason is even stiffer than he usually is around the rest of the family, his movements stilted. He looks both annoyed and relieved when Dick cuts him off with _a look_ to wrestle Black Mask to his feet a little rougher than strictly necessary. 

"I recognize no such thing," Damian snaps. " _You_ must recognize your own failings. Whatever passes for a justice system in this country is sorely lacking in the means and willingness to protect the people. All your way does--"

Bruce is trying to listen. This is a crucial moment for teaching Damian a valuable and apparently desperately needed lesson.

But the movement in his peripheral vision is distracting. Largely because Bruce has no context for why Dick seems to be determined to stay bodily between Jason and Roman. Or for the indiscernible looks Roman keeps casting back at Red Hood in a way that seems like it would come with suggestive dark eyes and lecherous smirk if Black Mask had a face that could emote.

What peeks Bruce's attention (and apprehension) more than anything though, is the edgy way Jason acts. Like he's torn between keeping his distance and pushing Dick out of the way. The small tilt of his helmet towards the criminal every few seconds like he's... stealing glances. 

Then, when they're out of the cell and waiting for Bruce and Damian to join, Black Mask, one of Gotham's most ruthless and sadistic (not to mention successful) crime lords, raises his bound wrists, looks over Dick's shoulder to Jason and says, "You gonna cut me loose, baby? You know I prefer to be the one doing the restraining."

Bruce's brain shorts out. He's only vaguely, tangentially aware that Jason has gone completely rigid. The younger vigilante's face is hidden behind his own hood but his discomfort is advertised by his body language like a neon sign. 

"Shut the hell up, Roman," Dick hisses, as though Bruce didn't already hear; as though those words could be unsaid. 

Damian and Tim look as taken aback, standing in stunned silence, as Bruce. 

"What's the matter, Blue? Worried 'bout something?" Roman purrs, voice sweet and thick and cloying. He shakes his wrists to jingle the chain of the cuffs. "You don't have any just cause to keep me locked up. I've just been rescued from months of illegal detainment by _Robin_. Can't imagine that'll look real good to the cops and the adoring public."

He turns what manages to be an extremely self-satisfied look to Batman. "Or the Justice League," he adds.

There's a long moment of silence as everyone just kind of... processes what's happening. 

Bruce looks around after his brain kicks back into gear. All the other villains have warrants out for their arrests and can be left for the authorities to handle legally through the system. 

Roman, however, is correct. He isn't wanted for anything at the moment. And as much as Bruce absolutely does not want to let that bastard on his plane, they need to get out of here before the police arrive and they certainly can't allow Roman to go opening his disgusting mouth before they hash this out. 

"Bring him with us," Bruce grits out. Then he speaks loudly and authoritatively over Dick's vehement argument, adding, "And secure the rest out front then notify the proper channels."

Everyone snaps to, getting to work following his orders. 

"This isn't over, Robin," he snaps at the boy. "We will be finishing this discussion after I'm through with damage control."

Dick has what appears to be a death-grip on Roman's upper arm as he steers Bruce's _one time classmate_ out of the basement entrance. 

Bruce almost manages to miss Black Mask looking over his shoulder, eyeing Jason--Bruce's _son--_ and saying, "You're gonna give me a lift home? Oh, Red. Me. You. You're whole happy little family. All couped up together? Is he gonna get jealous when you call me 'daddy'?"

Dick snarls, "Shut the fuck up, asshole," and Jason almost stumbles.

A loud crack is what makes Bruce aware that he's managed to snap the batarang in his hand clean in two. 

Which is the only thing that stops him from lodging it deep in Roman's throat. 

And the only thing that helps keep him from vomiting.   
  


* * *

  
The cockpit of the batplane is exceptionally quiet. 

Roman manages to exude a truly irksome level of smug arrogance that borders on environmentally toxic. 

Bruce grinds his teeth he knows he needs to be the one to start this... whatever they're about to do.

The kind term is probably negotiation.

The real term is probably blackmail.

It'd be a lot easier if Roman wasn't staring at Jason the whole time like he wants to eat him and pick his teeth with the bones. 

Jason, tellingly, doesn't remove the hood and sits as far away as the criminal as the limited space will allow. Staring resolutely anywhere but Roman's corner. 

Dick, also tellingly, uses himself as a human barrier. Keeping his body between Jaosn and Roman. 

Which just drives home the fact that Dick knows what's going on and doesn't like it one tiny little bit. 

Roman occasionally tosses Nightwing an equally enraging look. 

Bruce finds himself wishing that Roman had a face. That blank expression is infuriating, even if the man manages to ooze his feelings.

"So," Roman chirps. Which is a sound Bruce never thought he'd hear. Roman with undiluted delight in his voice. "Who wants to start this... negotiation?"

Asshole. 

"I would personally love to," the crime lord continues, "I think there is a lot our boy hasn't kept you appraised of and--"

"He's not _our_ boy," Bruce snarls. "I don't know what you're goal is with all these... comments. But whatever you think you have with Hood is a fantasy. It's best you not keep digging at that if you actually intend to accomplish anything."

He knows. If it were just Jason and Roman acting strangely, Bruce might feel more confidence with the words he just spoke. But Dick...

He knows. But he says it anyway. Clinging to something desperately hopeful but infinitesimally tiny.

The look Roman levels at him is just as expressionless as anything else. But just as clear. 

"Oh _Batman,"_ he purrs before returning his attention to Jason, "You're _uncharacteristically_ quiet tonight, baby. You ashamed of me or something?"

Dick growls again and Bruce thinks this must be what hell is like. He's immensely grateful he had the presence of mind to make Tim and Damian wait in the little med bay off the main cabin.

"Don't talk to him, you piece of shit," Dick barks. "The only reason you're not eating from a tube is because Jason didn't want to talk about the sick shit you did to him..."

 _That_ makes Bruce's blood boil and his insides start vibrating in rage. What did this sadistic bastard do to _his son???_

"... And the only reason you're still _breathing_ is because Jason begged me not to strangle you with your own guts."

"Names," Bruce croaks weakly, more on reflex than anything. He's still trying to process the little bits of information he's getting. The implications of what Dick's saying... did Roman _rape_ _his_ ** _son_** _???_

"He already knows," Dick snaps and Jason mutters at the same time. 

Roman looks like a cat playing with a mouse. "Aw, pumpkin. You fought your brother to save little ol' me? So protective. It's good to know our time together meant so much to you. I'm so proud of you, _son_."

The only thing that stops Bruce from flying across the confined space to make good on one of Dick's threats is the way Jason responds. 

It's almost unnoticeable. Bruce would have missed it if he hadn't been watching Jason more than Roman, eyes scouring over Jason's body, despite it being almost entirely covered in armor, searching for evidence abuse that he'd managed to miss. Even if his rational mind knows that there will be nothing to find. 

That's the only reason he catches the little shiver that shakes it's way down Jason's torso. 

Suddenly a picture snaps together in his mind.

And he hates himself for thinking it but... rape would have been better. Simpler.

"Fuck off, Roman," Jason says. Which is the final nail in the coffin. Jason's words waver, just a little. There's none of his normal heat or bite. They're spoken softly, almost... _timidly_. 

"Don't flatter yourself. He didn't do it to save you. He did it to save me." 

There is color in Dick's face. Bruce hasn't seen him this pissed off in a long time. 

Disapproval pours off Roman in waves and Bruce thinks he's going to be sick again when Jason flinches.

The words that come out of the man's mouth are oil, thick and vile and manipulative. 

"Oh sweetheart," he coos in Jason's direction. "You try to replace me with this soft, sappy, child? You know you need a strong hand, baby. A real man, who isn't afraid to give you what you need. A man strong enough to put you in your place and _hold you there._ Why don't you take off that nasty little helmet, pet. Let me see that pretty face."

When Jason's hand automatically lifts off his lap several inches and Bruce can _see_ the conscious effort he makes to force it back down... that's all Bruce can handle.

He doesn't shout. That's not how his rage manifests. His voice is calm; dangerous; the suggestion of smooth surface with swirling riptides and icebergs waiting for you to misstep so they can tear you to shreds.

"Enough," he says as he places himself between Roman and his boys, making certain that he fills the crime lord's entire field of vision so that the whole world narrows to Batman. "You'll address all future statements to me and me alone and you will stick to the subject of discussion. Namely, the terms of your... offer to keep Robin's lapse of judgement to yourself."

The argument, or more accurately the "or what", he expects doesn't come. Roman makes a show of looking him up and down before cocking his head. 

"Ok," he says brightly. 

Bruce's skin prickles under his suit. 

Too easy. 

This isn't going to be good. 

"I'm tempted to throw you out of this plane and let someone scrape you off the side of the road, Roman," Bruce warns. "So don't test me."

Roman _tsks_ him. "Come on, Batman," he hums quietly as though they're conspirators. "You didn't do anything to the clown who killed him. You don't really think I'm worried about you overreacting to a little consensual, if rough, fun, do you?"

They are four sentences into this conversation and it's already testing the frayed edges of Bruce's restraint. Not to mention his ability to remain outwardly impassive. 

Finding the balance between not giving away too much and making it clear that Roman can't pull his shit with Bruce is like walking a tightrope. 

"Conditioning is hardly consensual," Bruce growls, low enough he's reasonably sure the boys can't hear. He doesn't know if Dick knows that's what happened. Doesn't know if even Jason is aware. 

Not that he can prove it, the part of his mind that _needs_ solid evidence reminds him. He suspects that's what happened based on a brief observation of a couple actions that could mean anything.

To that effect, Roman manages to look shocked and offended. "Batman!" he gasps in faux horror. "I may have a... less than ideal past. But would never stoop to such depravity."

They glare at each other. Or rather, Bruce glares from behind the white lenses of the cowl while Roman watches him with what reads like polite curiosity. 

"What do you want?"

"Oh I don't know, Bat. It's so complicated, you understand. I mean, this is a big deal for you. The way your underaged subordinate treated us poor, illegally detained people was inhumane. I'm certain some Geneva conventions were violated. My rights as a living, breathing person were trampled _,_ Batman. _Trampled_. I need to make sure that I get something proportionate out of this. Something that can begin to soothe some of the physical and emotional anguish and despair--"

"Get to the point, Mask," Bruce snaps, allowing himself the indulgence of rolling his eyes since they weren't visible anyway.

Roman cuts off and cocks his head slightly.

Then drops any and all pretense. As well as the attempts to not be overheard.

"I want Jason."

Bruce saw it coming but nothing could have prepared him for the reflexive swell of disgust and fury that burns like bile in his throat. The audacity, the entitlement, required to barter with _people_ is repulsive and fundamentally against every single thing he stands for. Roman can't possibly believe Bruce would give Roman _his son._ That Jason is _Bruce's_ to trade.

"Just for one night," the evil bastard amends as though that would make it somehow more palatable. 

"No."

"Are you sure? There aren't many things that--"

"Yes. Non-negotiable."

Sighing dramatically, Roman leans his back against the bulkhead. "Worth a try. He is such a treat in the sack, Bat. You should really try him out if you haven't alre--"

"I recommend you make your next offer before I rip out your vocal cords," Bruce snarls, finally losing all that was left of his unflappable facade. 

There is no doubt in his mind that if Roman had lips he'd be smirking in a way that would make punching him irresistible. Instead, the criminal just tilts his head and makes a show of considering a different demand. As though they both don't know he already has something in mind.

"Got it." Roman snaps his fingers like it just came to him. "I'll take the blueprints to your fancy toys."

That... wasn't what Bruce was expecting. There is no way he can give Black Mask, the owner and CEO of Janus Industries and the head of a massive criminal empire, any of the information about any of Bats' tech. For one, Roman would absolutely weaponize, patent, and manufacture everything and make sure his goons are well equipped for their next confrontation. For another, it would immediately implicate Wayne Enterprises and draw too much attention to the family. 

"No."

Roman's eyes say everything his face can't. Bruce just stepped into his trap.

"Now, Batman, if you're going to say no to everything..."

"I won't say no to everything. Just the insane things."

"I'm afraid that's not how this is going to work." There's a hint of his own growl in Roman's tone and all playfulness has disappeared. Roman is very serious. "Your brat kept me in a tiny cell, _chained to a wall_ , for months, feeding me slop like an animal. If you want to buy my silence, it's going to cost you. With interest. If _you're_ unwilling to make a sacrifice of equal or greater value, we have nothing to discuss and you can drop me at the GCPD."

It takes all his training and experience to keep his face schooled into something not murderous. That familiar voice in the back of his mind that always whispers in his ear about how much easier this would all be if he just killed the bastard is louder and harder to ignore this time. Still, Bruce manages to expertly shove it back down. 

Because the worst part is, Roman's right. They can't expect him to stay silent about Damian's actions. Which really weren't any less insane than the things Roman is asking for. 

"Pick something else. Something that doesn't endanger one or all of us."

With a prissy wave of his hand, Roman scoffs. "Jason would be fine. I wouldn't do anything to him he wouldn't like. _I_ know how to take care of _my_ boy. _I_ don't withhold the affection he deserves--"

The fucker doesn't even flinch when Bruce slams his fist into the bulkhead less than an inch from Roman's face hard enough to dent the metal.

"If you're trying to push me to kill you, I won't. But I will make sure the brain damage is so bad you never look directly at anyone ever again, let alone speak."

Victory seems to seep out of Roman's pores. Bruce is about to grab him by his grimy lapels and make good on his and Dick's threats when the eyes in that ruined face flicker over Bruce's right shoulder just before a gloved hand rests on his wrist where his fist is still in the metal wall.

"It's okay, B," Jason says _way_ too softly. His hood is gone and everything from his tone to his body language sets off every internal alarm Bruce has. "I'll go."

The situation is too untenable and Bruce's emotions are as frayed as his nerves.

"Absolutely not," he snarls, rounding on Jason. "Are you even aware of the extent of what he's done to you?"

Jason flushes red but squares up and seems to find a little of that defiance that is so fundamental to who he is it's unnerving when it isn't there.

"I fucking guarantee I know more about it than you," the younger man snaps. Then he visibly deflates. "You can't give him our tech. For the obvious reasons. Every suggestion is just going to be more and more extreme. He sacrificed a better negotiating position to watch you squirm, B. You already have his lowest offer."

"You should listen to the kid, _B_ ." Roman's tone is delighted again. His eyes snap back and forth between Jason and Bruce like a kid at Disneyland for the first time who doesn't know which amazing thing to look at first. "After all, he knows me _so well_."

All his patience is gone. He actually reaches for Roman this time. The only thing that stops him from following through on his prior threats is Jason pulling him back. 

"It's ok, B," Jason says softly, just to him. "Honestly. It's just one night. Trust me."

Bruce turns to face him, gives his son his full attention. Something overcomes him and he reaches out to take Jason's face in his hands. 

Surprise flashes through blue eyes, tinged with Lazarus-green that acts as a physical reminder, just in case it ever slipped his mind the horrors Jason has experienced. 

That's why Bruce is trying to keep himself in check with Damian. It makes sense that being murdered by villains might change one's perspective on things. Bruce doesn't want to repeat the mistakes he made with Jason. 

But he doesn't want Jason to pay for Damian's mistakes either. 

"It's not you I don't trust, Jason," Bruce mutters, making an attempt to keep this horrible conversation private.

Jason blinks several times in quick succession. Then, voice thick with restrained emotion, says, "I- that is... nice to hear..."

He straightens, jaw set in determination. "This is the best bad option. I know you know that. And I know you hate yourself for thinking it. Don't. It's fine."

It is absolutely not fine.  
  


* * *

  
This is already a terrible idea. The effect this could have on Jason is... well, it could be catastrophic if Roman has as much control of Jason as Bruce thinks he might. 

He keeps seeing Roman order Jason to remove his helmet and Jason moving to obey on reflex. 

But Jason is also not wrong that this is the only option they had that didn't endanger the entire family. 

It's not enough for Bruce. So he lays down what meager rules he can.

Roman's penthouse is out of the question. Whatever happened before, it happened there and Bruce is determined to mitigate any chances for relapses possible. Not to mention that cutting off Black Mask from his home turf--his men, his security, his... stuff--is a non-negotiable safety precaution that Bruce is prepared to fight for.

He doesn't have to. Roman just shrugs, waits for Bruce to turn away, and mutters something indiscernible to Jason who blushes and growls back that he's sure Roman can think of something. 

Dick waits until they're clearing the weapons out of one of the older safe-houses that was about to be scrapped anyway. He keeps saying that if Bruce only knew what had happened the first time he'd never allow this.

"Why don't you tell me then," Bruce snaps at him finally. He feels bad for it but he's losing his nerve and Dick's talk is working. There really isn't another better option and Bruce keeps trying to tell himself that this can at least help prove to Jason that he trusts him and that little tiny positive is the only thing keeping him from calling this off and making things worse. 

But the more Dick goes on like he knows, the more Bruce questions his estimates of the severity of Jason's past experience. Especially since, while Dick has a tendency to overreact to situations on behalf of his brothers, Jason has a tendency to act like things don't bother him. 

Even in the dim light, Bruce can see Dick turn scarlet. "I... I can't. It's not for me to say."

Bruce can respect that, even if it just makes him more frustrated. "Then stop. You're not helping."

" _You're_ not helping," Dick snaps at him. "You need to save Jason from this, Bruce--"

"How would you suggest I do that, Dick?" He barks back. "More importantly, would you do anything differently from Jason? Would you endanger the family by handing over our tech or giving him controlling interest in Wayne Enterprises? Would you allow him to go to the police to tell the story of how _Robin_ kidnapped, imprisoned, and abused him? Or would you not do exactly what Jason did?"

His oldest just chews on his lip. "I did." 

"What?" 

"I... pulled Roman aside when we landed and offered to take Jason's place."

Once again Bruce finds himself glad for the lenses. Tears sting at his eyes and he pulls Dick to him. 

They hug for a long moment before Dick murmurs into his symbol. "He knows his way around Jason's head, Bruce. I'm terrified he'll convince him to come back for more."

"We won't let that happen," Bruce says, stroking his hair.

"You don't know how hard it was to get him out the first time." 

The way Dick's breath hitches wetly tells Bruce it was worse than he originally anticipated.

He doesn't like this one bit.  
  


* * *

  
Disallowing the use of Roman's penthouse wasn't just to remove some of Roman's power.

It's also because of Bruce's security. 

If something goes wrong in the safe house, Bruce has footage of every nook and cranny in the place and can track Roman with the nano trackers he has being dropped into the air by the AC. 

Everyone thinks he's paranoid but it's this kind of shit that makes him that way. How many times were these kids captured and tied up by villains? How many times does he have to lose them to justify his overbearing actions.

The problem is that, no matter what he does, he can't stop worrying about what's happening in the safe house. 

He makes the boys stay upstairs in the manor and makes his way down to the cave, ignoring Alfred's disapproving glance, with every intention of burying himself in cases. 

But he doesn't even open a file. 

His fingers move like they have minds of their own, pulling up the safe house's security.

When the authorization box comes up, Bruce pauses. 

He shouldn't. It's an extreme invasion, even for him. There's absolutely no way to pretend Roman and Jason are just having a cup of coffee and play flirting. 

So he shouldn't look. Not unless something goes wrong. 

But if he waits, he won't know something went wrong until after the fact (if at all, with Jason being tight-lipped about this kind of stuff). He won't know until it's too late to stop it from going _more_ wrong. 

He punches in his code so hard he almost breaks the keyboard and hits enter before he can think better.

It takes a moment to find them. They're not in the bedroom where he expected them to be. 

The flood of relief that washes through Bruce at that discovery is quickly burned away by renewed rage when he finds them in underground garage. 

Where Roman has Jason naked and tied, spread eagle to the hood of an old batmobile with rough ropes that are only meant to be used for moving crates of equipment. 

It doesn't look like they've gotten very far. Roman is still clothed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Calm and collected. But all that does is make Bruce more concerned. They've been there for a couple hours already. And like he'd thought earlier, it's not likely they've been catching up over coffee.

Especially considering how Jason is breathing heavily and his face is already streaked with tear tracts. 

Then Bruce notices the slightly darker lines that crisscross across Jason's back, buttocks, and thighs. He'd taken them for scars at first. 

But the belt folded into an easier to manage loop in Roman's hand disavows him of that thought. 

Bruce's blood boils as he watches Black Mask raise his arm all the way back and bring the length of leather down across Jason's ass with a deafening snap that echoes in the small garage. 

"Come on baby, don't be so stubborn," Roman hums, running his hands up and down the inflamed skin laid out in front of him. 

"G-go to hell _ah_ \--" Jason cries out when Roman gives him a sharp smack on the ass, right over where he just hit with the belt.

"You know how much I like it when you play hard to get, sweetheart, but we are on the clock this time and I have all kinds of fun in mind for the rest of the night. Just say it so we can move on."

He hits Jason three more times in quick succession with each strike sounding like a crack of lightning. Jason flinches and lets out small sounds of pain but bites his lip to keep from shouting. Or to keep from saying whatever it is Roman wants him to say. 

"I think I'm being very generous with you, son," Roman downright purrs as his free hand tugs one of Jason's ass cheeks aside to get a look at his hole. He thumbs over the entrance and Bruce wishes he could go through the screen and beat the bastard touching _his_ son into a pulp so fine there'd be nothing left to ID. "I'd rather not waste all night punishing you for what you did to me when we had our... falling out. I'd love to move on to rewarding you for going up against your family to defend me. For being _so willing_ to come with me tonight." 

"I'm n-not saying it," Jason gasps when Roman's thumb pulls at his rim. "C-cameras everywhere."

Bruce feels a flush of shame, especially when Roman looks up at the camera, eyes glinting wickedly like he _knows_ , and says, "Surely he wouldn't want to watch his _son_ getting his brains fucked out. You probably don't have to worry about that."

Jason shudders only to immediately stiffen when Roman leans close and adds, "But regardless. You _will_ say it. You know you will. I know you will. Nightwing knows you will. Hell, princess, I'm sure even Batman knows you will. It's who you are. You're weak for it."

Black Mask pulls away and without warning, whips the belt down across Jason's exposed hole. 

Jason shouts and sobs and thrashes in his bindings and Bruce is half out of his seat to head to the safe house and put a stop to this when a hand rests on his shoulder with just enough pressure to keep him seated. 

He looks up to find Dick, eyes glassy, staring at the screen with a frown and sagging shoulders. "This is mild, B," he all but whispers, voice cracking like he wants to cry. "I told you if you knew..."

Those words don't pacify him the way Dick seems to think they should. More screams echo from the speakers as Roman relentlessly swings the belt across Jason's now puffy, battered hole over and over again without pausing. And it just makes Bruce resolved to pry the whole story out of his boys whether they like it or not. 

And maybe entertain the idea of lower quality cameras.

His attention snaps back into focus a particularly blood-curdling shriek, just in time to see that the belt has landed lower between Jason's legs. Dick flinches in his peripheral and they both squeeze their thighs together in sympathy.

Fat tears roll down Jason's face while he tries to catch his breath between choked sobs. But the way his hips tweak in a small thrust against the hood of the batmobile doesn't escape Bruce's notice either. 

" _Please_ ," Jason croaks, writhing against the matte black metal. " _Please, please, please..._ "

"That's it, sweetheart," Roman coos, reaching down between Jason's legs to do something that makes the younger man jerk and whimper. "Just let go."

He alternates the next vicious strikes between the most sensitive parts of the helpless body beneath him until Jason's knees buckle and his full weight slumps against the car. His breathless, muttered mantra of pleas fall on deaf ears. Like Roman knows how deep Jason is sinking into whatever headspace the crime lord taught him to go to.

"Everyone knows you're a slut for this, baby. Just give in and I can give you your reward."

Roman grunts as he throws his own weight behind a particularly brutal hit to the balls. 

Jason's mouth falls open in a silent scream, the air driven from his lungs not quite returned. The hitched whimper that follows ends in a softly uttered syllable that Bruce's mind dismiss as nothing more than a delirious expression of pain. But it stops Roman short mid swing.

"What's that pumpkin? I can't hear you very well."

For a moment, Jason's mouth moves but no sound comes out. Waiting 'patiently' Roman strokes his hands over the raised welts that make up most of the bound man's visible skin. 

Jason recoils from the tinder touch like it's as painful as a blow but he's still trying to get the words out.

When he finally manages, the words come out fast and breathless.

" _D-daddy._ P-please, _daddy, please_ ... I'm s-so sorry. I'm so _so-sorry_..."

Bruce can't move. Can't breathe. Just sits there staring at the screen, at Roman's smug, triumphant face, in horror. 

"There it is," the piece of shit croons, wrapping the belt around Jason's throat and pulling it tight in one fist before reaching into his pants with the other. "That's my _good boy_."

A shiver runs its way down Jason's body at those words and another at the touch of Roman's cock against his savaged entrance. 

"Don't worry, Jason. You've taken your punishment so well you've earned your reward. Daddy's going to fuck you so hard."

A pained noise rips its way past Jason's blocked airway as Roman shoves into him in one, rough push. 

But then he chokes out a wet, "Th-thank you, d-daddy," and Bruce's heart shatters. 

"I've missed having you like this," Roman grunts, pistoning into Jason's body. " _Welcome home, son._ "


End file.
